


Shall I Play For You?

by qrantaire (rivenjolras)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Bisexuality, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Voice Kink, default Survivor, default name, don't look at me, minor Age kink, tried to make it mostly vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 04:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivenjolras/pseuds/qrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate’s always had a thing for voices calling his name. Nora’s was low, sultry, and she knew how to use it. She would sing-song it from the kitchen, and he would come running. Nate supposes, when Drummer Boy calls him his codename, it’s pretty much the same thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall I Play For You?

Nate’s always had a thing for voices calling his name. Nora’s was low, sultry, and she knew how to use it. She would sing-song it from the kitchen, and he would come running. Nate supposes, when Drummer Boy calls him his codename, it’s pretty much the same thing.

It’s as if the man has some sort of sixth sense, and he always runs up to him whenever he and Deacon stumble through the door. It always strikes him how unnecessary it is- Drummer could very easily wait until Nate passes the threshold of the main room to direct him where to go. But, every time, he sprints right up to him, and launches immediately into his assignments. Like clockwork.

“Hey, Whisper, Tinker Tom’s got some new goods for you in stock. You oughtta check it out.” The man smirks, then turns before Nate can ask if that’s all. It seems like an odd thing to rush to tell him about, but he can hardly complain when he watches his ass as he leaves.

“Boss, did I just catch you eyeing up our fellow agent? Frankly, I’m surprised at you.” Deacon quips from behind him in amusement. “What would our dear leader say?”

“Me? Ogling a comrade? Never.” Nate says. He plays it off, but he’s nervous. Is his attraction really that obvious? He wonders if everyone sees it. He wonders if _Drummer Boy_ sees it. Then again, Deacon is a lot more perceptive than anyone Nate’s ever known.

“Uh-huh.” Deacon doesn’t sound convinced, but his tone is still light. “Well, when you end up getting kicked out on your beautiful ass by Des, don’t say I didn’t warn you, pal.” He claps Nate on the shoulder.

Nate informs Doctor Carrington of the latest mission success. Or failure, depending on how you define it. Augusta safehouse is gone, and the slaughter was brutal. When Deacon and Nate arrived, the bodies were already stinking and the raiders were officially done celebrating their victory. Synths and agents alike (the Institute hit it first, and the casualties left them weak for the opportunists to come wipe them out too) littered the floors, and the sheer amount of corpses was staggering. Deacon’s shoulders were tense and he said nothing the entire time they were there. Nate didn’t exactly blame him. They set fire to the whole joint when they left. There was nothing worth saving there.

As Doctor Carrington pries details out of him, Nate notices Drummer Boy lounging nearby. He wonders briefly what the man does between tagging drops and giving news to other agents. Drummer Boy strikes a match and lights a cigarette, then lets out a cloud of smoke from his lips. On the exhale, he notices him watching. Instead of looking away like he should have, Nate stares. Drummer takes a slow drag, and doesn’t break eye contact. He’s transfixed, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees. The spell is broken when Deacon elbows Nate gently in the side. Doctor Carrington is done speaking.

“Is that all for today?” Nate asks, hoping his cheeks don’t flush and betray him. The doctor looks only a little annoyed.

“Yes, you may go. I don’t know of any other assignments for you, but check with me again before you leave.”

Nate nods, then steps away. Deacon follows, as he always does. He checks his pip-boy for the time. “Jesus Christ, that took up the whole day, didn’t it?” He looks up at Deacon, then around the room. Tinker, Glory, and a few of the others are on their claimed mattresses already. Desdemona is smoking in a chair, and reading something. Right now, the only ones awake are the two of them, her, Doctor Carrington and Drummer Boy. Oh, and P.A.M., but she doesn’t exactly sleep.

Deacon shrugs. “Well, that was honestly enough activity for me for one day. There’s always tomorrow, anyway, I’m sure Des will find _something_ for us to do.”

Nate groans. “Yeah. I guess we should hit the hay. Be up in about 8 hours or so, okay?”

 

“You got it, boss.” Deacon always takes the bed closest to the door, for some reason that escapes him. 

Nate doesn’t particularly like being close to so many other bodies, and prefers one out by the escape tunnel. He supposes it’s not very smart, but he hates the sardines-in-a-can feeling that being too close to people he doesn’t know gives him.

It’s quiet by the door, and Nate takes the opportunity to have a smoke before bed. He never used to indulge, but these days it’s more likely to die young by a gunshot than pass from cancer. He’s not exactly thinking long-term, not anymore.

Drummer Boy steps into view. Nate groans inwardly. He had hoped he would be able to sleep alone, but he supposes that if anyone were to be in the same room while he slept, he isn’t exactly a bad choice. But the man doesn’t lay down on one of the dirty mattresses. He strides right up to Nate, stopping just short of him. Nate raises an eyebrow.

“Got an assignment for me? I already told Deacon to get some shuteye, can it wait until morning?”

Drummer Boy chuckles lowly, and it feels like a hot stab in the gut. “No, there’s no assignment. I just came for some company, is all.” 

“Well. Be my guest.” Nate gestures. Drummer Boy leans on the wall next to him while he smokes. They don’t speak for a few minutes while Nate finishes. He puts out the cigarette and tosses the butt. He doesn’t move.

“You know,” Drummer Boy starts conversationally, “I saw you lookin’ at me earlier. Honestly, I’d say you were outright staring.”

Nate stiffens. “Yeah..?” He’s not sure how to react.

“Yeah.” Drummer Boy says slowly. He turns to face him, and the movement is fluid, casual. Nate is stiff. He wants to run. But he doesn’t. He waits for the other man to elaborate, but he only watches.

Nate swallows hard. “And… what do you think? Of me staring?”

Drummer Boy leans in, as if telling Nate a secret. His voice is low. “I think if you were lookin’ as hard as I think you were, you would have noticed me staring right back.” He grins. “And I think.. I want to do somethin’ about that.”

He gasps when Drummer catches him in a kiss. Drummer Boy quickly boxes him in with his arms, and although Nate is physically larger, more powerful, he feels completely powerless. It almost feels like too much, and his knees shake a little. The other man pulls back after he completely steals his breath, and Nate gazes, wide-eyed.

“You want to know somethin’, Whisper?” Drummer Boy reaches out, and smooths down the front of Nate’s t-shirt idly. He _has_ to know what the simple touch is doing to him. Drummer Boy’s voice is even, as always. It’s infuriating. “I’ve wanted this since you first walked into the church.” His eyes are bright, piercing into his. “I’ve waited to see if this is the kind of thing you’d want.” His hand travels lower, until his fingertips brush against the growing tent in his jeans. “And it seems like you do. Correct me if I’m wrong.” The last bit is tacked on as an afterthought. He knows he isn’t.

“You’re not.” Nate hear himself saying. He doesn’t know where he finds the words. 

“Good.” When the man smirks, he looks so young. Nate briefly wonders what their ages are comparatively. Pre-War, that would have been something that mattered to him. Nora had just graduated at the tender age of 26, and the 10-year difference between them was something she always joked about. The man in front of him has the kind of cock-sure attitude of a man in his early twenties, max. Nate feels a little lecherous at the thought.

The man grinds his palm slowly against the front of his jeans, making Nate squirm and moan. He continues. “If you’d let me, I would have you, right here. Would you like that, Whisper?”

Nate lets out a keening noise. God, how he wants that. He knows that if the other man asked _anything_ from him in that voice, he would give it more than willingly. He doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed. When Drummer Boy talks, he doesn’t care.

Drummer Boy laughs softly and leans in. His breath is warm by Nate’s ear. “What if I want to hear you beg for it? Would you like that?” As he speaks, he’s unbuttoning and unzipping Nate’s jeans. He closes his hand around his exposed cock and pumps slowly. 

“Please..” Nate whispers desperately. His legs are shaking and his hands are braced on the wall behind him. He is so, so weak for this man and he knows it. 

“Mm. Good.” Drummer grins. “Take off your shirt and turn around.”

Nate scrambles to obey. The shirt is discarded in record time. He plants his legs a shoulder-width apart, and his hands on the wall in front of him. His heart is pounding in his ears, and he’s dimly aware of his jeans being yanked down to his knees. Suddenly, his cheeks are being spread, and a warm tongue is pressed to his hole. He flushes and cries out. No one has done this for him since his military days, and it takes him completely by surprise.

The other man licks at his hole and penetrates with his tongue like it’s his job. If the taste bothers him, he makes no complaint. Nate shifts his weight and groans. Soon, a finger joins the tongue. It’s drier than he’d like, but it’s completely serviceable. He adds a second and it’s just a little on the side of painful.

Drummer Boy gets off his knees, with his fingers still moving in Nate. His voice is a little hoarse, but not unpleasant. “Please tell me you have anything to use as slick. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Nate looks back, and wonders when Drummer managed to get his cock out. He’s stroking it lazily with his left hand as he looks at him. His eyes widen at the size. “My pocket. Uh, right side.”

“Thank you.” He says, as if Nate were doing _him_ a favor. Nate wonders if he would have let the man take him dry. If he’s honest with himself, probably. Drummer Boy fishes out a small bottle, and raises an eyebrow. “You always this prepared? God. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

Nate doesn’t respond, only sticks his ass out. “Please.” He begs, incapable of much more than that.

“Hm, can’t even wait for me to properly stretch you, huh? Well, can’t say I blame you.” Drummer liberally coats his dick and gives it a few strokes. He wipes the excess against Nate’s hole, dipping two of his fingers in shallowly with little resistance. “But on the serious side… you tell me if we need to slow down, okay? I won’t have Desdemona yelling at me when you’re limping in the morning before a mission.” Nate nods.

Drummer Boy lines himself up, then pushes in. Nate gasps harshly as the man’s length forces him open. It’s a long, slow slide that makes him weak at his knees, and they nearly buck under him. After a long moment, Drummer Boy is fully seated inside him. “ _Fuck…_ ” He draws out by Nate’s ear. Nate knows he won’t be long, if the man continues with that.

Nate grinds back against him. It’s been a while, and he feels painfully full. Drummer’s hands make it to Nate’s hips and grip them tight. “God. Whisper…” He slowly draws back, then snaps his hips forwards. “I’ve dreamt about _this…_ ” Another slow drag, followed by a thrust. “ _Fuck_. For so long…” Another thrust. “You taking my cock, just like this.”

Nate is aching and overwhelmed, both by the force of the thrusts and the honesty. “Oh… _oh…_ ” He breathes out. It’s been literally over two hundred years since he’s been fucked like this. He forgot how it felt to be speared on another man’s cock.

Drummer Boy picks up the pace. His nails are sharp on Nate’s skin, and he loves it. They ground him, and his hands are the only thing keeping Nate from sinking. With the strength of Drummer Boy’s thrusts, Nate’s palms dig into the wall, gritty and painful. His head lolls forward of its own accord.

“Ah ah.” The other man chides, and yanks Nate’s head back with his hair. “Stay with me.” Nate lets out a loud yelp. Drummer’s voice is right by his ear. “Think you can come without me touching your cock?” Nate doesn’t doubt it.

His thrusts slow, and he grinds into Nate. Nate’s head falls back onto Drummer Boy’s shoulder. “Mm, Whisper..” He groans. “How long has it been since someone’s fucked you like this?” Nate felt like the air had been punched out of him. “ _God_. Am I the first one to take you in two centuries?”

Nate nods feverishly. He’s so close he can taste it.

“Did you think about me? Did you wait for me to be the one to touch you?” Nate doesn’t answer. Drummer Boy knows. “I bet you couldn’t fucking wait. You would have crawled on your hands and knees for the chance to be fucked like this, wouldn’t you?” He thrusts, hard. “Cum for me, babe.”

Nate nearly wails as he spends without a hand on him. Everything is white-hot as he climaxes, and he slumps forward against the wall, his chest heaving. He’s dimly aware of Drummer Boy fucking into him madly, before pulling out and cumming on his back and ass.

They catch their breaths, and Drummer Boy gently cleans him with the discarded shirt. He pulls Nate’s jeans up for him, and turns him around. He kisses him lazily as Nate comes down from his orgasm-high. 

“Wow.” Nate says finally, when he pulls away. The other man laughs.

“Yeah, _wow_.” Drummer Boy takes a step back. He smirks. “Let’s… make sure this definitely happens again, next time you’re at HQ.” He pats Nate’s cheek gently, then turns on his heel. “Get some sleep, Whisper.” Then he’s gone, presumably to his mattress of choice.

Nate doesn’t remember falling asleep, and wakes to Deacon kicking his legs in the morning.

“Come on, sleepyhead. We’ve got things to do. I hear P.A.M.’s got a Courser for us to exterminate.”

Nate groans and gets to his feet a little shakily. His ass is on fire, and he knows any sneaking he does will be particularly painful. He rubs his head.

“By the way, boss…?” Deacon says as he waits by the entrance to the main room.

Nate looks at Deacon. “Yeah?”

“Next time you pick a codename, make sure it isn’t false advertising. You’re definitely a Screamer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write this, I sob at 2am. Why did I publish this. Why did I write _porn_. Anyway, here you go.


End file.
